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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973757">Intertwined</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLink/pseuds/RedLink'>RedLink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(or is it ?), A little blood vomiting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief mention of Tony/OFC, Declarations Of Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Hanahaki Disease, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Unrequited Love, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:01:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLink/pseuds/RedLink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter has been secretly in love with Tony for years, it's one of the few constants in his life, actually.<br/>He has it under control though, honestly, and it's pretty harmless really.<br/>Or that's what Peter thinks, until he coughs up his first petal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Ironspiders Georg Secret Stocking Stuffer Exchange 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Intertwined</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/gifts">salable_mystic</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Did we say small treats? Sorry, I must've missed that memo.<br/>Here Samy, take this 13k words unnecessarily world-building heavy little gift, I don't know what happened (your fabulous letter happened).<br/>I really, *really* hope you like it, I had a lot of fun trying to check all your boxes!<br/>Merry Christmas to you, dear.</p><p>A huge, heartfelt thank you to my wonderful beta FeyRelay who spent hours editing this monster. I love you.</p><p>AU Thanos who? Nope, never heard of him.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter had accepted years ago that his feelings for Mr. Stark were never going to be returned. It wasn’t even a conscious decision, something he needed to convince himself of, it was simply how things were.</p><p>He didn’t expect anything to change when he turned eighteen, nor when he started college.</p><p>He didn't even get his hopes up when Tony and Pepper got divorced some months later.</p><p>It was another source of worry for his friends—who viewed his silent and persistent pining as a waste of his young life—not to mention as an extremely reckless thing to nurture. For Peter, it felt like neither. His love for his mentor never kept him from falling for other people, for one thing; MJ and Gwen were both proof of that.</p><p>Besides, the acute pain of the first years had slowly dulled to something easily manageable, something he could sometimes forget, something from which he was pulling as much comfort as quiet sorrow these days.</p><p>Really, he had it under control. Yes, every time he was with Mr. Stark, Peter was still overwhelmed with what he liked to call fondness and residual awe. But who could blame him? The man was amazing. Anyone allowed to gravitate around him was damn lucky, and Peter wouldn't trade the easy friendship that developed between them over the years for anything.</p><p>All in all, it was pretty harmless and nobody’s concern… or that was what Peter thought until he coughed up his first petal.</p><p>He stared at it for the longest time, trying to make sense of it. Were there flowers in the fancy dinner he had shared with Tony and the team the other evening? Did he somehow swallow one while webbing his way across Queens last night?</p><p>Later on, when the event finally hit Peter, he would be immensely relieved that it happened while he was walking through Columbia's campus alone, surrounded by strangers that went automatically around him, out of the way of the still, young man staring at his open right hand in confusion.</p><p>In that moment, though, Peter wasn’t even aware of the people that were passing by. The only things he registered were his own loud heartbeat, along with a rapidly growing sense of dread.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>The petal was red. Iron Man red, at that. And that in itself was so infuriatingly cliché, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that this had to be some kind of joke.</p><p>There were quite a few of them during his high-school years, pranks of fake petals in someone’s food or their lockers, stuff like that. The fact that flowers didn’t bloom in merely infatuated people never stopped the pranksters from trying to scare the shit out of their classmates. However, MJ and Ned had always treated Hanahaki disease way too seriously to ever joke about it. Hell, it was everywhere on their faces when Peter talked about Tony with probable heart-shaped eyes, and yet they never mentioned the possibility of it. Peter felt their reluctance from the very start —even when it was just hero-worship with a crush— and he had somehow avoided ever actually <em>voicing</em> his growing feelings for Mr. Stark, despite how obvious they must have been to his close friends.</p><p>They never said anything either, like talking about unrequited love was just asking for trouble.</p><p>Suddenly, he ached for their presence and wanted to call them so badly he found himself with his phone in his hand before he could fully process this suffocating need. He toyed with the device, tossing it from hand to hand, hesitating for a few seconds before putting it decidedly back on his desk.</p><p><em>Later, </em>Peter promised himself. <em>I'll tell them everything later. </em></p><p>First, he had research to do.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Peter remembered most of the preventive courses on Hanahaki that students were subjected to from seventh to twelfth grade by stern teachers with very graphic illustrations. There was a phone number they were made to learn by heart by singing it and he could still mumble half of it in the catchy tune.</p><p>All his information, however, was at least four years old and Peter had no need for a call center nor to take so-called preventive distance with the ‘subject of his unwanted feelings’.</p><p>What he really needed were updated articles on treatments, even experimental ones.</p><p>The one thing he could recall with perfect clarity from his Health classes was the ‘miracle’ cure (and the only one available then) that was presented. It had made such an impression on Peter precisely because of how little the teachers had talked about anything else —barely broaching the cause of the disease for instance— having been surely mandated by the school board to teach an ‘abstinence-first’ philosophy. Instead, the teachers had been very explicit about the gruesome details of this ‘cure’.</p><p>First the surgical removal of the flower itself, which is generally entwined around the heart and lungs. There was also danger of it making its way up the trachea in the final stages of the disease. If it was successful—if the flower's bloom wasn't too advanced—the patient then had his head cut open on local anesthesia and a few electrodes put on very specific areas in the hippocampus and the amygdala. Finally, the patient was made to recall everything they had in mind about their doomed love, while a series of shocks fried the memory of their feelings and every moment spent with this person, irrevocably.</p><p>His teachers described the procedure as a cathartic and painless experience, but you could’ve heard a pin drop in the classroom after the presentation.</p><p>Thinking about it was enough to make Peter’s hair stand on end.</p><p>He shook himself; there was no point in dreading surgery since Peter didn’t have that option. He was Spider-Man, and Tony was Iron Man. They were beyond simple friends and colleagues and working together with the Avengers was too important; he couldn’t simply erase the man from his life even if he wanted to.</p><p>(He didn’t.)</p><p>Peter started with hanahaki-disease.org, opened a few other tabs, and lost himself in reading for several hours.</p><p>They had some write-ups of promising results with antidepressants; the dulling of emotions caused by the treatment apparently contributed to slowing the flower’s growth in many cases. It wasn’t a cure, but it gave patients several months to try to win their love interest’s reciprocation. It was encouraging news, but Peter’s experience with meds post-bite was remarkably similar to swallowing some Tic-Tacs with water. </p><p>He didn’t know if it was that his modified cells didn’t absorb them or if his accelerated metabolism just processed them faster than they could act, but either way, regular meds—along with alcohol—had almost no impact on him.</p><p>The other issue was that these studies were about buying time for the Hanahaki’s target to love the victim of the disease back. For Peter, even if he had meds that worked, that was the remotest possible outcome he could imagine with Mr. Stark.</p><p>The rest of his results were infinitely more esoteric than scientific. There were tons of websites dissecting the language of flowers and how their meanings translated to the carrier of the disease. Peter certainly didn’t need any help to interpret an Iron Man red petal though.</p><p>It didn’t look too promising, basically. </p><p>He needed medical advice on this, <em>certified</em> medical advice, but he couldn’t go to a regular clinic without compromising his identity.</p><p>“What I need,” Peter mused while browsing the latest published papers on Hanahaki disease, “is someone familiar with both the disease and metahuman genetics.”</p><p>He clicked on an external link and paused. Before him was a short biography of Dr. Helen Cho and a summary of her thesis on Hanahaki disease and its genetic predisposition.</p><p>“Oh. Well, that’s convenient,” Peter muttered. </p><p>He grabbed his phone and didn’t hesitate this time.</p><p>Dr. Cho answered promptly, her calm tone and serious manner of speech greatly helping Peter to overcome his nervousness and explain his situation. She didn’t ask any questions, only suggested that he come to the compound in two days’ time.</p><p>“I’ve been invited by Dr. Banner to work on a project,” she explained, “so I’m staying here for a few months. If you can come by Wednesday afternoon I can run a thorax CT scan, interpret the results, and recommend you a course of action.”</p><p>Appointment made, Peter thoroughly thanked her and barely had time to hang up before he was hit with a coughing fit that dropped two more scarlet petals in his palm.</p><p>Of course, that was the moment May chose to come home and walked by his room to say hello.</p><p>“Hey, you’re- <em>What the fuck?!</em>”</p><p>Only this time, he was more relieved than panicked at being discovered.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>He spent a few exhausting hours explaining everything to May and trying to reassure her, sometimes answering three questions in the same sentence because she fired them faster than Hawkeye did his arrows.</p><p>“How long has this been going on? Is it someone from Columbia? It’s not one of your teachers, I hope! Or is it an Avenger? OHMYGOD, it’s Thor, right?!”</p><p>Consequently, May’s reaction when she found out about Tony wasn’t great, not even close, but he honestly expected worse. There was a stunned silence, followed by more yelling and some very elaborate death threats to Mr. Stark’s person that made his spider senses go crazy.</p><p>“You have to go through surgery!” she exclaimed, sounding both panicked and determined. Peter sighed.</p><p>“I can’t. Not now at least. Not until I’ve exhausted all the other options. We’re both Avengers, May; it'd be a mess.”</p><p>They talked well into the evening, while eating the Chinese take-out May brought home with her, on the couch with the TV muted. It was hard for Peter to talk about his feelings for Tony, but it was also liberating after hiding them for so long.</p><p>“I feel like I’ve loved him all my life, one way or another. I don’t know why I’m only contracting this stupid disease <em>now, </em>” Peter complained. “It’s not like I ever had any hope of dating him before.”</p><p>“He should be so lucky!” May growled, still bitter, but thankfully seeming attentive. She had her arm around his shoulder and her fingers were rubbing at his nape, like she always did when Peter was upset. It had always made him feel drowsy, even before the bite and his enhanced senses.</p><p>“I wish...” She started with a hesitancy that clued him in to the rest of her sentence. “I just wish Ben was <em>here</em>. He would understand what you’re going through so much better than I can,” she finished in a hoarse whisper.</p><p>The mention of Ben struck Peter like a slap in the face, the sucking void left by his death still clawing at him with razor-sharp teeth despite the years. May and he almost never brought his name up, instead honing and saving the pain for special occasions like Peter’s graduation, May turning forty, or Peter contracting the Hanahaki disease like his uncle before him.</p><p>“I can’t believe you caught it too—this damn Parker luck. I mean, what are the odds?” She shook her head, her hand on his nape tightening slightly with anxiety.</p><p>“Better than you'd think,” Peter croaked somewhat miserably against the emotion in his throat. “Apparently someone has discovered that it’s partly hereditary.”</p><p>He told May more of what he’d discovered about the disease, and about his appointment with Dr. Cho. That seemed to relieve her a little. </p><p>Eventually, they ran out of things to say, watching some TV quietly before moving as one to go to sleep much later than they usually did. May stopped Peter before he entered his room, with a small but firm hand on his arm.</p><p>“You have to talk to him, Peter,” she said low and calm. “I don’t like him much, and I like that he’s 10 years my senior even less, but… I love <em>you</em>. If there’s one chance Tony Stark can save you with a goddamn kiss then I want you to go for it. If he has any sense under that playboy attitude, he’ll see how lucky he is to be loved by you.”</p><p>Peter hugged her without a word, his throat gone tighter still.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Two days passed swiftly, with Peter busy with school and downplaying infrequent bouts of coughing. He booked a bus ticket upstate, too nervous to risk riding in close quarters with Happy for an hour. Once he was done with his morning classes on Wednesday, he walked to the station and got on the Greyhound bus along with a few other people. The trip was slow going, way longer than he was used to, and he spent it worrying about the CT scan,  about Dr. Cho’s conclusions, and most of all about running into Mr. Stark and having to somehow explain everything to him.</p><p>A discreet black sedan was waiting for him at the bus stop with a SHIELD employee behind the wheel, and the guy didn’t seem inclined to engage in more pleasantries than the “good afternoon, Mr. Parker” he greeted Peter with; he had already turned his head away when Peter responded with a timid wave.</p><p>The drive was short, thankfully, and Peter was almost relieved to take in the growing sight of the compound despite the knots in his stomach.</p><p>He nearly jumped out of the car the second it stopped, quickly thanking the taciturn guy and making his way through the front doors in a hurry. Maybe if Peter was fast enough, he wouldn’t run into- </p><p>“Hey, Peter! You didn’t tell me you were coming today!”</p><p>
  <em>Of course. </em>
</p><p>Torn between exasperation and fondness, Peter watched Tony approaching in his trademark tailored suit, trimmed goatee, and thousand-watt smile. The other man’s cologne hit him a few seconds before Tony reached him, turning Peter’s knees into the usual jelly. </p><p>
  <em>Get a grip, Parker!</em>
</p><p>“H-hi Tony! Sorry I didn’t warn you, I, hum, I didn’t come for lab work, I’ve-”</p><p>“He has an appointment with me, Stark.” Dr. Cho was getting out of an elevator, walking evenly toward them. “Blood tests, for my research. You two can catch up later; I’m on a tight schedule here.”</p><p>Tony held his hands up in surrender, with a contrite smile. </p><p>“Sorry Doc, didn’t mean to mess with your schedule. I’ve got a meeting anyway.” He did, however, turn to Peter before going to walk away. “Come to the lab, when you’re finished? I’ve got something to show you.”</p><p>Peter had planned to go straight home after that, but saying no to Tony took a lot more strength and focus than Peter was equipped with, today.</p><p>“Yeah, sure, of course!”</p><p>“Perfect. See you later, kid! Bye, Doc.”</p><p>Peter watched him leave for a moment. Small encounters with Mr. Stark always left him reeling. He needed to spend a certain amount of time with the man before his senses stopped assaulting him with how good he looked, smelled, sounded, and felt, no matter how many years he had known him by now.</p><p>“Well. I suppose that answers the ‘who’ then.”</p><p>Peter turned to Dr. Cho, full ‘deer caught in the headlights’ in his face, he was sure. She had a tiny, wry smile that would have been humiliating, but her brown eyes were kind.</p><p>“Come on, let’s start with the CT scan, we’ll talk about this later.”</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Dr. Cho took a sample of his blood, then made him stand in the center of her personal lab—<em>smaller than Tony’s</em>, Peter couldn’t help but think—and ran several scans before displaying the results in front of him, showing him a projection of his thorax in electric blue light.</p><p>“Mmh. That’s unusual…” She muttered, her hands manipulating the hologram, zooming in on his heart, making it spin.</p><p>He could see the flower, tiny as it was, and the reality of it—of the presence of something foreign, something unwanted, something dangerous, inside his body—seemed to finally hit him. Hard.</p><p>“Something’s wrong?” he croaked. <em>Besides the freaking plant growing in my body.</em></p><p>“The flower itself is in the first stage, one flower, barely bloomed and with only a few buds emerging. But the roots… the roots run deeper than they should. Looking at them alone, I would estimate that you contracted the disease months ago perhaps up to a year, but the flower indicates an early stage, four or five weeks at maximum.”</p><p>“Could… Could my healing factor have interfered with its progression?” Peter managed to ask, fighting against nausea. <em>A year! </em></p><p>“It’s almost certain, yes. It couldn’t fight the disease off entirely, nor completely stop its growth, but it has bought you time, much more than non-enhanced humans usually have.”</p><p>It was a good thing. It had to be. It meant they had time to try different treatments before they needed to resort to surgery.</p><p>“What can we do?” He was starting to feel less dizzy and more determined.</p><p>“We have several options, but before we get into these, I need to ask you a few standard questions if that’s alright?” she asked while leading him to a corner of the lab with a table and chairs. She got them both a glass of water before sitting across from him.</p><p>“Yes, of course, go ahead,” Peter said, grateful for the chilled water.</p><p>“Very well. I suppose we’ll skip the part where we identify the person that has caused your condition…”</p><p>His blush and nervous fidgeting answered for him.</p><p>“Have you confronted him about it?” Cho asked.</p><p>"You mean, did I confess my feelings? No, I didn't. I never intended to, honestly. The odds that something good would come out of it weren't exactly great." Peter aimed for casual with his words and only missed by a foot. He was very proud. </p><p>"No, they rarely are when this condition develops in a patient,” she said in a serious tone. “Still, you are aware that in some cases, a full recovery has been observed when a positive outcome manifests from the Official Confrontation?" </p><p>"Yes, I read a few records, but the odds of that are what... two out of ten, right?" </p><p>"Close to two, yes. You’ve done your research well," she complimented him.</p><p>“Thanks, teachers are pretty serious about the disease these days, and given that-” He hesitated. “That my- uncle contracted it before, I had a little prior knowledge I guess.”</p><p>“Your uncle you say? By blood?” Dr. Cho’s eyes seemed to light up instantly, interest as obvious as a flashing sign. “How did it happen?”</p><p>“Well, he- he was a university professor at that time. He taught social sciences and humanities, and met my aunt there; she was his student. They had a ten-year age gap and he was her professor, so he never planned to say anything. It got pretty bad, to the point where his doctor orchestrated the Official Confrontation right before the planned surgery. Except. Except my Aunt May loved him back and cured him.”</p><p>Peter was feeling raw and uncomfortably exposed, talking about uncle Ben twice in a week. It was draining, not to mention the fact that the comparison between the two situations, similar in appearance, only served to highlight how hopeless his own love was compared to his Uncle Ben’s.</p><p>Dr. Cho looked like she had a lot of questions, so Peter changed the subject abruptly before she could poke further into the wound of his grief.</p><p>"Anyway, I know this meeting between you, me and M-” Peter took a deep breath and powered through. “-and Mr. Stark, is mandatory before I go through surgery. Obviously, it's a risky enough procedure that you don't want to undertake it unless you're sure there's not a single chance it might not be needed but... Well. I'm not really looking forward to it," he explained. <em>Understatement of the year.</em></p><p>"I understand, it can feel very impersonal and uncomfortable, especially with a doctor present as a witness. But it's critical that someone’s there in case rejection spurs the condition on to worsen suddenly. It's been known to happen occasionally. You’ll certainly be tempted to confess your feelings for him privately but I strongly advise you not to, please." </p><p>Peter could hardly imagine wanting to reveal his long-held secret to Tony, no matter the setting, but he refrained from saying so. He had other questions anyway.</p><p>"Is it likely to happen, given the way my healing factor seems to slow down the disease’s progression?" </p><p>"We can't know for sure. I'm sorry, Peter, but you'll have to go through this. I can, however, personally act as the medical party if you'd like." </p><p>As far as undesired bystanders went for witnessing a humiliating moment like this one promised to be, Dr. Cho was actually the perfect balance between complete stranger and someone safely in the know about him.</p><p>"That would be great, yes, thanks." </p><p>“Very well then. This measure is the last resort, though. We have time to try other things before that. There’ve been promising results with antidepressants—although it can be a little more complex when we’re dealing with metahumans—but I’ve had other, similar cases in the past.”</p><p>“Drugs have had no effect on me since the bite,” Peter informed her somewhat dejectedly.</p><p>“I’ll run some tests with your blood sample, but it’s very unlikely that I won’t find a single molecule in existence that can bypass your accelerated system,” she countered, clearly aiming for a comforting tone. “In any case, I need a way to effectively put you under regardless, whether it is for the removal of the Hanahaki flower or in case you get badly injured in the line of duty.”</p><p>Peter, who had eight years of experience treating his own wounds without anesthesia, could see the wisdom and practicality in that.</p><p>“In the meantime, we’ll do regular scans, bi-weekly if you can. I understand that you’re in your last year of undergrad though… do you think you can manage it ?”</p><p>Peter winced.</p><p>“I come to the compound most Saturdays and I can probably add a few Wednesdays here and there but not much more, especially with patrols and homework.”</p><p>“Saturdays are fine for the moment. I need to monitor your condition since developments are often erratic with this disease, although yours seems fairly stable, if unusual... Would you describe your relationship with Tony Stark as particularly tactile?”</p><p>Peter, who was finishing his glass of water, coughed up most of it, though he thankfully managed to avoid splashing Dr. Cho’s ironed lab coat and neat hair in the process. He had to take a few seconds to compose himself and wipe the table with his sleeve before answering her question.</p><p>“Hum, I don’t think so? Maybe? We’ve been working together for years and I guess engineering and Avenging bring us at close quarters. And Tony has always been pretty hands-on with people, I mean, he sat on my bed with me and put his hand on my shoulder the first time we met.”</p><p>He watched with dread as her right eyebrow climbed almost to her hairline.</p><p>“Yes, well, I can assure you that it’s not how <em>our</em> first meeting went. Nor most people he met, I’m sure. Not nowadays at least.”</p><p>“Why are you asking me about this anyway?” Peter asked, eager to change the subject.</p><p>“With the atypical growth of the flower, I’m quite certain that your metabolism has played a large part in this, but I’ve also observed that constant exposure and regular contacts tend to affect its development. To put it simply, the disease interprets touching as contradictory information, encouraging information, which slows the Hanahaki’s progress.”</p><p>“So I should, what? Web myself to Mr. Stark until your analysis is done? I’m sure he’s not going to have any questions about this…” Peter had a sudden, hilarious flash of the image of himself wrapped around Tony like an octopus and being carried around in the lab while the man worked. It was possible his anxiety was edging into hysteria.</p><p>“Have you thought about what you're going to tell Stark to justify this appointment and the next ones?” Dr. Cho responded to his sarcasm. “I don’t know him very well, but he doesn't strike me as a man capable of leaving an enigma unsolved.”</p><p>Peter flinched a little, his bubble of fun burst.</p><p>“I have. I was thinking about using the ‘blood test’ opening you gave me earlier and maybe follow it with DNA tests? Ever since I got bitten I wanted to see exactly how much of the spider DNA got mixed with mine, if there was still a part of me untouched, unchanged. I never had access to the right equipment obviously, and in the first years it was... too raw a subject to ask Mr. Stark,” he finished, a little somber. Being bitten so young was in part a blessing because it was hard to remember a time when he didn’t have powers. But Peter can still remember the fear and horror of the first weeks when he felt infected, invaded, and like he was losing control of his body.</p><p>“Yes. I must admit that I've been curious about the origin of your powers. Most of my case studies and patients are mutants or carefully-engineered metahumans like Captain Rogers. Accidental cases like you and Dr. Banner are much rarer and always unique in their results.”</p><p>While Dr. Cho remained overtly impassive in her tone and posture, Peter’s senses bugged him suddenly. He frowned.</p><p>“Listen, I. I don't want you to actually study me… I meant this as a reasonable excuse for Tony, but I'm still... Peter Parker is still a nobody outside of the compound. And I want to keep it that way.” He knew he probably would have to go public one day, but he hoped to postpone the whole identity reveal thing for as long as possible.</p><p>“Alright, I understand.” Dr. Cho tucked a nonexistent stray hair behind her ear, her disappointment unmistakable for once.</p><p>Peter could afford to give a tiny bit of ground, maybe. “I was thinking we could run a few experiments about things that affected me differently since the bite. Like caffeine or sugar.”</p><p>“You mean drugs are ineffective but sugar makes you high?” She looked both curious and incredulous.</p><p>“Well, not ‘high’ exactly... A bit manic maybe?” Peter struggled to find the right words. ”Just for a few minutes after I've had coffee or too many candies. It's easier to avoid than the cold anyway.”</p><p>“What about the cold?”</p><p>Peter took a long breath; the room they were in was pretty cool, besides it was late October already, so it wasn’t hard to conjure memories of past winters.</p><p>“It bothers me more than before? It gets into my bones, makes me feel drowsy, saps all my energy and motivation. I didn't realize this for years because, well, both my parents and my Uncle Ben died in the winter, so I already felt down at this time of the year anyway. Seasonal depression, my old therapist said.” Peter ended his explanation with a nonchalant shrug to divert attention from his barely shaking hands.</p><p>“Yes, I can see how you might have confused the two.” Dr. Cho said, her voice the softest he had heard in the last two hours.</p><p>“Anyway, it’s gotten a lot better since I’ve discovered thermal clothes and the heater function in my suit!” Peter babbled, a little agitated. “So are we good for now? I’m sure you have a lot of work waiting for you with your other projects.”</p><p>“As a matter of fact, I do.” She sounded back to normal, but he didn’t look up from where he was gathering his things to make sure. “I’ll see you on Saturday, early afternoon if that’s convenient for you.”</p><p>“Yes, perfect.” Peter slung his backpack on his shoulder “Thank you for everything, Dr. Cho.” It was heartfelt, even if he could hardly wait to get out. “Til Saturday then. I hope your research goes well.”</p><p>“Thank you, Peter. And you’re welcome. Goodbye.”</p><p>He could still feel her perceptive brown eyes on him when he left. </p><p>It had started raining during the time he had spent with Dr. Cho, but Peter was feeling too unsettled to deny the healing call of fresh air to his senses. He stepped outside the building, sat on the stairs, which were damp with humidity, and raked his fingers through his hair, tightening them, right on the edge of pulling.</p><p>He spent a few minutes mentally cataloging everything he had learned during the appointment: the half-grown flower, the possible treatments, the way his powers and apparently the sheer power of Tony’s touch had altered the disease progression. <em>Talk about having golden hands, </em>Peter thought fondly. Musing about the man in question was enough to soothe Peter’s nerves and made him realize that he was getting both wet and cold in the fall drizzle. He sighed, grabbed his backpack, and rose smoothly, heading back inside at a much more sedate pace than when he went out.</p><p>Tony was waiting for him.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Peter was hit by the blaring notes of CCR when the elevator doors opened on Tony’s private lab floor, loud, making him flinch and grin at the same time. He reached the door and let it scan his iris before FRIDAY welcomed him in, her voice muffled in the loud music.</p><p>He took a few moments to gather himself and soak up the symphony of stimuli that walking into Mr. Stark’s territory always produced for him. DUM-E was wheeling toward Peter at an alarming speed and Peter greeted his favorite bot with a smile and a gentle pet on his claw. He focused on the comforting familiarity of the concrete under his feet, the numerous workstations overflowing with parts and tools, and the corner spot with the cushy sofa and basic kitchen, before he finally allowed his eyes to fall on Tony’s figure at the center of the room.</p><p>He had got rid of his suit at some point, donning dark work pants and a thin black shirt, his hair looked a little messed up, like he had run his hands through it a few times or had worn a welding helmet maybe. U was holding up an arm piece while Tony seemed to be making some minute adjustments with his favorite tiny screwdriver.</p><p>The blaring music, the various holograms and transparent screens, the smell of metal, burnt circuits, oil and <em>him</em>, everything faded in the background while Peter listened to Tony as he continued bickering with his bot, mock-threatening him with a gruesome death, his head tilted and his shoulders tense but for the barest swing in his hips.</p><p>Warmth flooded Peter’s veins, an assault of affection and desire so tightly intertwined he could hardly distinguish the two as separate emotions.</p><p>This man was everything. His center, his mentor, his friend, his comrade… he was an inspiration before Peter even met him. Nowadays he felt bigger and brighter than the sun; sometimes Peter thought he could live on Tony’s gaze on him alone.</p><p>He couldn’t imagine a life without him.</p><p>If it came to that, if he had to let him go forever…</p><p>Peter felt his throat tighten in anxiety and it prompted a bout of coughing that thankfully didn’t bring out any petal, though it did serve to draw Mr. Stark’s attention.</p><p>“Pete, hey, I didn’t hear you come in! FRI, mute soundtrack. So, are you done with Dr. Cho? Wait. Question. Why are you drenched?”</p><p>Peter looked down at himself, realized most of him was indeed quite wet.</p><p>“Oh, um. I went outside for a minute, it was raining.”</p><p>Tony arched an eyebrow before moving toward him, easily sidestepping DUM-E—who was still beeping happily around Peter—and gently grabbed his shoulder.</p><p>“Well, come on, let’s get you some dry clothes; I don’t want you to fry yourself by accident because of a stray raindrop.”</p><p>Tony led him to the sofa and began to rummage through the nearby closet, muttering about reckless young people wanting to catch their death, before emerging with a grey sweater and a towel.</p><p>“Here, dry that hair of yours and put this on.”</p><p>Peter slowly took the offered clothes, a little bewildered, and wondered if he had missed something during this chain of events. It was a bit hard to compute. Tony’s clothes. On Peter’s body.</p><p>“You’re supposed to put the towel on your head, kid. Then you scrub it back and forth…”</p><p>The wry yet warm voice made him look up, meeting Tony’s eyes. Tony, who suddenly seemed closer than usual…  he was frowning now, his head slightly tilted and a familiar pout on his mouth that never failed to bring up the fantasy of those lips sliding on his cheek and down his neck. Peter shivered.</p><p>“Peter? You’re alright? You didn’t let Dr. Cho fiddle with your brain, did you? If she broke you, I’m going to be really mad.”</p><p>He finally managed to find the way out of his befuddled mind, to make words.</p><p>“No, not broken! Just tired and, well, a little cold.” Peter hesitated but decided to seize the perfect opportunity. “That’s what we’re working on, Dr. Cho and I. After-effects of the bite, the full scope of my enhanced senses, the way some things affect me differently, like coffee or cold weather.”</p><p>He felt nervous about the not-quite truth, unused as he was to lying to Tony nowadays (about big things anyway, hidden feelings notwithstanding). Peter proceeded to hide under the towel under the pretense of drying his hair. It muffled Mr. Stark’s voice a little but it didn’t mask his very uncharacteristic caution.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m well aware of your ‘no coffee, no sweets’ rule, kid, though I wish you’d let <em>me </em>experiment with it. The results sound quite fun. But the cold? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”</p><p>Peter gave his hair one last hard rub before draping the cloth around his neck, and the sight of Tony’s raised eyebrows let him know of the probable mess he made of it. Peter ran a hand through his own still-damp strands, a little self-consciously.</p><p>“It used to be a problem before you gave me the suit. Now, whenever I start to feel a little sluggish and creaky I only need to ask Karen to run the heater program and I’m good as new! You fixed it, unknowingly sure, but you still did.”</p><p>Tony looked away for a moment, still frowning, and then sat decidedly next to Peter and met his eyes determinedly.</p><p>“Kid, this heater, I designed it half as a joke because it made me think of <em>Back to the Future </em>and half because I was drunk, or rather 25-75 if I’m completely honest. Seventy-five being the drunk part.” Mr. Stark looked at him with a self-deprecating smile that Peter refused to answer. “You remember how much of a mess I was at that time, even if I tried to shield you from it, I know you saw it. So your suit, I made it in a frenzy, and it’s still genius tech of course, but I’ve been trying to sell you on the Iron Spider one <em>for years</em> for a reason, Peter, and that’s because it’s infinitely <em>better</em>! If you really need something to keep you warm I can design five solutions far more superior and efficient than what you’ve got, in less than an hour.”</p><p>They had had versions of this argument several times already, with Tony once calling the jumpsuit ‘an antique with less protection than if I made you wear jeans from head-to-toe” which was not only blatantly untrue but also a horrific mental image that completely distracted Peter and prevented him from finding a good comeback at that time. And that was entirely by design, Peter was sure of it.</p><p>This time wasn’t different, the pop culture reference, calling himself a drunk mess and bringing back their familiar quarrel about Peter’s suits, Tony was nothing if not a cunning and compelling orator. But Peter wasn’t an awestruck kid anymore and most of the time he gave as good as he got (when the metaphors didn’t get too distracting at least).</p><p>“Whatever state you were in when you built my first suit, you and I made tons of changes and updates over the years, so don’t you dare try and say it’s outdated or full of bugs or something.”</p><p>“I can think of one pretty big bug at least-”</p><p>“Spiders aren’t bugs, Tony. And you know perfectly well that I’m not against wearing the Iron Spider when the situation requires it, like when we dealt with Doctor Doom two years ago. It’s great, of course it’s great, it’s intuitive and incredibly fast, and the spider legs are awesome-”</p><p>“See, see! So much better!”</p><p>“-BUT it’s also too flashy and constricting for day to day patrols!”</p><p>“But it’s <em>bulletproof</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah, alright, I can think of a time or two when that would’ve been useful…” The glare Mr Stark sent in his direction almost chastened him. “Why don’t we try to design a fabric that satisfies us both? Flexible <em>and </em>bulletproof?” Peter pretended to think for a moment, his next words already planned for maximum impact. “Or maybe you’re saying that it can’t be done.”</p><p>“Of course it can be done!” The words were out of Mr. Stark’s mouth as soon as Peter questioned his competence.</p><p>In the silence that followed, Peter slowly started to grin while Tony crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.</p><p>“Alright, you won that one, kid.” He stood up with an exaggerated sigh and gestured at the forgotten sweatshirt on the sofa while he walked back to his workstation. “Put this on and come over here, time for Designing Super-Suits 101.”</p><p>Peter nearly jumped up off of the sofa, so excited he was almost vibrating, or maybe still shaking in his sodden shirt. He took it off, used the towel to dry his damp arms and put on the grey sweatshirt, discovering the MIT logo in the process. It was too big and shapeless, the way most clothes from the 80s seemed to be, yet Peter couldn’t think of a time when he had felt more snug, nestled as he was in Tony’s scent.</p><p>He checked that Mr. Stark still had his back to him before bringing his covered wrist to his nose, inhaling deeply. <em>Hmm, heaven</em></p><p>Peter joined Tony soon after and tried to get a grip on himself, since he needed to be at the top of his game if he didn’t want to end up with an Iron Spider Mark II. (He didn’t believe for one second that Tony had given up on his plan to fully dress him in gold and nanite).</p><p>Mr. Stark greeted Peter and his new appearance with a wry smile, his eyes roaming Peter’s frame in the sweatshirt rapidly before he beckoned him closer.</p><p>“Alright, feeling warmer now?” he said. He waited for Peter’s nod before continuing. “Perfect. Lesson one, resistant textile materials.”</p><p>Every last thought of being dangerously sick left Peter’s head as he and Tony worked in perfect tandem for several blissful hours.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Peter would love to be able to say that he completely forgot he was wearing Tony’s sweatshirt and therefore <em>accidentally </em>neglected to return it before coming home, but the truth was, he knew.</p><p>Every time he moved, he felt the foreign and dizzying brush of the worn cotton fabric on his skin, the discreet (but for him, potent) smell of cologne hitting his nose in small but regular waves.</p><p>It was a miracle he managed to hold his own against Tony during their lab session, securing a brand new Spider suit made from polymers they designed together (and bickering the whole time). It wouldn’t be entirely bulletproof but it would face a lot better against knives, which were the weapons he encountered the most anyway.</p><p>They finished later than Peter had envisioned; taking the bus home would have made him miss dinner with May, so he reluctantly agreed to let Mr. Stark arrange for Happy to drive him home.</p><p>There was a moment when they said goodbye to each other when Peter thought Tony would ask about his sweatshirt, especially when his eyes slid over Peter’s chest, but in the end he didn’t say a thing and Peter left.</p><p>The journey home was animated; he and Happy had an intense debate about the best pizza place in New York that turned into a friendly shouting match and Peter resolved to pick up a Margherita pie in his favorite spot the next time Happy drove him to the compound. If that pizza didn’t find its way around the ‘no food in the car’ rule, nothing would.</p><p>The heated argument had the unfortunate effect of prompting a coughing fit in Peter who pocketed the stray petals discreetly while Happy yelled about germs before asking if he was alright.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I probably just caught a cold in this rain.” Peter answered casually.</p><p>“You know what, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get sick before! Must be nice to have a super immune system,” Happy grumbled.</p><p>Peter forced out a small laugh, glad that the irony was lost on the other man.</p><p>Later when he would recall the incident in the sanctuary of his room, Peter would realize that, apart from a small episode at the beginning, he had never felt sick during the time he spent with Tony.</p><p>Maybe Dr. Cho was right when she said physical proximity moderated the symptoms. They had worked at close quarters, bent over the same microscope or standing shoulder to shoulder reading FRIDAY’s analyses of their various tests.</p><p>The fresh memory of Dr. Cho’s question about how “tactile” their friendship was had made him hyper-aware of Tony’s hands, and the way they seemed to constantly grab his shoulder, poke his side, pull his elbow and ruffle his hair, each occurrence making his body light up like that old board game, Operation.</p><p>He had showered and changed when he got home, avoiding May’s questioning glance at the new sweatshirt, it was now laying in a ball on his bed, almost inconspicuous but for the fact that his eyes kept being drawn to it every now and then.</p><p>Peter debated with himself for a moment, but soon surrendered to the siren call of the pile of enticing cotton. He approached his small bed, got on it on his hands and knees until he was right above the damn sweatshirt.</p><p>Despite the fact that he had worn it for hours, to his enhanced nose the fabric still smelled as potently of <em>Tony</em> as the first time he put it on. He lowered himself slowly until he was completely laying down, face stuffed in the sweatshirt, and inhaled deeply.</p><p>His hips ground into the mattress on their own accord and he let out a muffled moan that he had held back for so long that it didn’t seem to want to end. He rubbed his face against the fabric, the friction against his not-so-smooth evening jaw electrifying. Each breath sent tingling in his limbs, a swarm of burning shivers that ran through his body like a fever. He pressed his face deeper into the cloth, letting out a bit of his tongue, gathered fabric in his mouth, and started sucking.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, fuck.</em>
</p><p>Peter’s head nearly exploded from the combined assault on his senses, the heady woody smell, the almost tart taste from which he could decipher hints of sweat and cologne and which made him think of sucking a kiss onto Tony’s neck after a workout. The feeling of Peter’s constricted cock grew unbearable as his hips undulated desperately against his bedsheets and he emitted a strangled cry when he came with debilitating force moments later.</p><p>Peter spent what felt like a small eternity laying face down on his bed, his erratic breathing coming down bit by bit and a heavy lethargy taking control of his limbs, turning them into lead.</p><p>The constant noise in his head was, for once, fully muted and he managed to slowly get up. He wiped himself cursorily with a stray shirt, changed his underwear, and gathered his soiled clothes in one pile next to his bed. He hesitated before the sweatshirt, his eyes going from it to the lump of clothing on the ground and back to it again. Finally, he picked it up and stuffed it under his pillow, before he crammed under the sheets himself, turning once, twice, until he found a position on his side where his right hand could slip under the pillow and grab the fabric. Sleep overcame him, letting him settle noiselessly for once, before his rational thought process could return to condemn him.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Days passed in a haze and the looming threat of finals brought with it an avalanche of work. Peter stopped no less than three attempted muggings on a single night and he saw May and his friends turn increasingly more worried as a fortnight went by and his coughing got worse.</p><p>He had taken advantage of their weekly Skype call to reveal his illness to MJ and Ned and had tried to minimize the severity of the situation as much as possible (mostly by overstating the impact of his healing factor), but while Ned had seemed to be cautiously reassured, MJ kept asking him more and more pointed questions about his treatment and options.</p><p>It didn’t help that Dr. Cho left him more or less in the dark concerning her progress on the development of molecules and meds that could effectively impact him and the Hanahaki flower. Peter had tried to offer his services and knowledge—he <em>was</em> majoring in biochemistry after all—but contrary to Mr. Stark and his openness, Dr. Cho wasn’t on board with sharing her work or hypotheses <em>at all </em>and kept telling him to focus on maintaining as much of a low-stress environment in his life as he could, to avoid stimulating the disease.</p><p><em>Right, because being left out of the search for a treatment for HIS fatal disease wasn’t stressful at all,</em> Peter thought dejectedly. Evidently, he was the test subject here, not the scientist.</p><p>One Saturday in early November, Peter was leaving Dr. Cho’s lab after an hour of giving yet another blood sample and getting various shots that, in turns, made him uncomfortably hot and sweaty, itchy from head to toe, or nothing at all. She had assured him of their progress; apparently, undesirable effects were a step forward from no effect at all, and she exhorted him to be patient.</p><p>Peter had made a habit of going outside after their sessions, the shitty weather of the past few weeks doing a great job of washing out the chemical smells and residues from his skin and mind. It didn’t hurt that the first time seemed to have set a precedent, and coming to Tony’s lab wet and miserable urged the man to dress Peter in his own clothes every time.</p><p>He returned them without fault the next week, washed and neatly folded, but never failed to bring them home in the first place. His sleep had improved tremendously.</p><p>Mr. Stark, however, looked increasingly frustrated and seemed to take Peter’s state as a personal offense.</p><p>“You know I could learn all about DNA in one day, right? I’m sure I could find ways to test your metabolism that wouldn’t require constant pouring buckets of water over you. Are you sure Dr. Cho knows what she’s doing?”</p><p>Being surrounded by the warmth of the man’s clothes and dedicated attention made it hard to remember the point of his deception and to keep in mind the hopelessness of his feelings. While his symptoms seemed to gradually worsen, the hours he spent with Tony felt more and more like living in a bubble, basked in easy banter and affection, boosted by exhilarating work and devoid of any cough.</p><p>Peter never missed a Saturday these days and even came most Wednesdays, despite the growing pile of homework waiting for him at home and the taxing trips.</p><p>As weeks went by, however, a sense of inevitability grew and spread within Peter, a choking feeling eerily similar to his disease. The temperature had dropped significantly since the start of December and he made a habit to wear his new suit underneath his regular clothes, the mixed fabric they had developed doing a great job keeping the cold away. Yet, it was a different kind of chill that numbed him lately.</p><p>When Happy picked him up that Saturday, Peter found a pizza box conspicuously waiting for him in the backseat (over a folded tablecloth). Ever since their heated argument, they had begun this weird game of chess where pizzas took the place of bishops, rooks, and pawns. Peter had managed to render Happy almost speechless the first time with his classic Margherita with fresh basil and mozzarella di latte bufala but the man had retaliated the next time with an amazing pizza Diavola that burnt off half of his taste buds but also treated the rest of them with almost unequaled relish.</p><p>While Happy seemed to have definitely thrown the ‘no food in the car’ rule out of the window, he was still extremely fussy about greasy fingers and potential stains on the seats so Peter was careful when he took a slice.</p><p>“Sicilian pizza, really?” He asked a little incredulously.</p><p>“Eat before you judge, you snob,” Happy grumbled back.</p><p>Indeed, the taste was unlike anything Peter had encountered before when trying this particular variant, the dough both thick and airy, the tomato sauce amazingly flavored with hints of herbs, onions, and a strong cheese on top, toma maybe, that fused perfectly with the other ingredients. Peter knew ‘toma’ cheese because Tony knew toma cheese, and had taught him to appreciate it.</p><p>He worked his way through two more slices in savoring silence before conceding this round to Happy.</p><p>“Told you so,” the man grunted back, before he was caught by a huge yawn that went on for a while.</p><p>“Long week?” Peter asked, feeling a little guilty for adding to Happy’s workload multiple times lately.</p><p>“Long night,” Happy corrected when he regained control of his jaw. “Tony was invited to a charity gala, asked me to wait outside, told me that he wouldn’t stick around more than a couple of hours, only to stumble in the car four hours later with a giggling brunette under his arm. You know how he is, granted it’s been a while, but still.” Happy shrugged. “He made me drive them around for a while, first a club, then a burger place, and so on. I didn’t go to sleep until 3 or 4 am.” He complained over another yawn.</p><p>Peter had been wiping flour and tomato sauce off his lips and fingers and hadn’t fully processed what Happy implied when he realized he couldn’t breathe anymore. He choked, trying to force air out of his suddenly swollen throat only to bend in half, struck by acute pain like his lungs were being pierced by dozens of needles. His right hand went to grab his chest in a futile attempt to relieve the agony and panic started to build as his vision blackened around the edges. He was barely aware of Happy calling his name repetitively when an abrupt movement made him vacillate to the left, before another almost propelled him against the driver’s seat.</p><p>Having apparently parked precipitously, Happy took his seatbelt off and turned to Peter, he grabbed his shoulder and kept calling him, the words muffled and lost on Peter.</p><p>Deaf and blind to his surroundings, Peter was still struggling to breathe, using brute force to urge air in his body, the effort making his head throb and his lips tingle. He could feel the vibration of his racing pulse in his ears, his fingers, and behind his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>I’m going to die.</em>
</p><p>He felt a slow shift in his chest, the tiniest release of pressure and suddenly he was gulping and coughing, the noises coming out of his throat sounded hardly human. He barely had the time to bring the napkin to his mouth before he started retching, a mouthful of dripping petals filling the white cloth and leaking on his hands and knees.</p><p>“Is that <em>blood</em>?!” He heard Happy distantly, ears still ringing. A brief respite in his gagging allowed him to lift his head and stare at the foulness between his hands. Petals, blood, and other things, stuck together in an indiscernible red mess. Nausea was a heavy weight on his stomach, the stickiness in his mouth a revolting feeling. Peter turned to Happy, the barest movement making his head swim, and he managed to croak, “call Dr. Cho,” before Peter drowned in white noise and lost consciousness.</p><p>/\/\/\</p><p>Awareness returned to Peter gradually, a low nagging buzz the first thing he registered. An indeterminable amount of time seemed to have passed before Peter could ascertain the cause as the hum of machines accompanied by steady beeps. He slowly opened his eyes, the effort it demanded completely inordinate, and was met with a blinding white light. He blinked twice and managed to focus enough to take stock of his surroundings. Hospital room, or someplace equivalent, it must be. He closed his eyes again and breathed.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p><p>Thankfully Peter was alone; it made the next minute of complete freak-out a little easier to deal with. He had almost choked to death on petals and blood. <em>In Happy’s car</em>. God, the man was never going to forgive him for ruining the back seats…</p><p><em>What the hell happened? </em>Peter thought, <em>I was eating this amazing pizza and Happy was- Happy was-</em></p><p>Happy was telling him about spending last night driving Tony and some brunette all around Manhattan.</p><p>Peter felt his throat tighten in response and deliberately pushed the thought as far away as possible. He forced his eyes open and examined the small room, it looked like one of the compound’s infirmary rooms. Peter knew because he had been led here once by a very persistent Tony after Peter had broken his wrist in a mock brawl against Thor. By the time they had finished putting on the cast, the bone had almost completely healed.</p><p>He lost himself in the memory of Tony’s frantic concern for a minute before the ache it caused became unbearable. </p><p>A sound in the corridor shook him out of it, followed by quiet footsteps that stopped in front of his room. The person knocked very delicately and entered—a nurse given the clothes—and her eyes widened slightly when she saw he was awake.</p><p>“Mr. Parker! We thought you wouldn’t regain consciousness for a while yet.” She approached his bed and began to inspect the machines that were probably reading his vitals. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Um, better? I’m breathing and not vomiting, so it’s a definite improvement, I guess.” </p><p>Even the nausea was mostly gone, now that he thought about it. He just had a bizarre numbness in his body and his thoughts felt a bit sluggish, nothing out of the ordinary given how sick he was earlier.</p><p>“That’s good,” the nurse responded with seemingly genuine cheer. “We did our best to stabilize you when you were brought here and Dr. Cho has locked herself in her lab ever since. I’ll need to inform her that you’ve woken up.” She pulled a phone from her pocket and started texting.</p><p>Peter dreaded Dr. Cho's arrival. An episode like this couldn’t bring anything but bad news. </p><p><em>Happy must’ve been so freaked out… we hadn’t even left Queens when it happened. He probably drove here like a mad man. </em>Still, he had apparently listened to him and called Dr. Cho, so points for calm under pressure.</p><p>“She’ll be here any minute,” the nurse said while she pocketed her phone. “Meanwhile, how do you feel about some water?”</p><p>“That would be great, thanks.”</p><p>She filled a paper cup with a pitcher that had been conveniently put on his bedside table, and that Peter had missed entirely. He managed to sit up—not an easy task with numb arms—and took the cup carefully. The cool water was a miracle balm and he drank two more cupfuls before he reluctantly handed over his trash.</p><p>He heard the same sound from before, a sliding door at the end of the corridor maybe, but this time it was accompanied by voices, loud voices.</p><p>“-awake? You know I paid for two-thirds of this entire facility, you can’t keep me away like this! Is he okay? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?!”</p><p>
  <em>Shitshitshit, Tony knows, he’s out there!</em>
</p><p>Peter met the nurse’s eyes and his alarm had to be obvious because she readily started to explain with a contrite smile.</p><p>“You were brought here by Mr. Stark’s head of security, a Mr. Hogan I think. He was understandably distressed and worried about you, but we couldn’t let him in while we tried to stabilize you. I suppose he decided to inform Mr. Stark instead. They’ve been waiting outside ever since.”</p><p>“And harassing the staff,” Dr. Cho added with an annoyed sigh as she stepped through the door. ”Good afternoon, Peter. You gave us quite a scare. Thank you, Linda,” she acknowledged the nurse, who nodded in response and left the room with a kind smile for Peter.</p><p>The opening of the sliding door once more brought with it another jumble of voices that Peter tried to ignore in favor of paying attention to Dr. Cho’s serious stance. She stood at the end of his bed, her outfit and hair as pristine as ever, but with an underlying tension that he had never seen in her.</p><p>“I’ve stabilized you with my newest batch of antidepressants; you might feel some discomfort in your limbs, numbness, tingling and even some difficulties focusing.”</p><p>Peter nodded, wordlessly.</p><p>“I did a CT scan when you arrived. Your condition has worsened significantly since the last one, three days ago. A change of pace this drastic indicates a catalyst event. Did you talk to Tony Stark despite my warnings?” Dr. Cho asked with a severe tone.</p><p>“No,” Peter blurted “No, I didn’t. I just. Heard bad news. On this subject,” he added when he saw her skeptical look.</p><p>“Very well. As it is, I don’t think we can afford to wait much longer. You now have seven blooming flowers and three more buds, their stalks have expanded in your chest, and it’s close to your larynx. We have to operate.” She said this last in a voice that left no room for argument.</p><p>“What? But you said months!” Peter tried, nevertheless. “I didn’t say anything to Tony! And you don’t even have anything to put me under!” He realized a little hysterically.</p><p>“I do, actually,” she countered calmly. “I’ve been working for the last four hours with Princess Shuri of Wakanda to adapt the anesthetic she used on Sergeant Barnes when she operated on his arm. We’re ready.”</p><p>“But- I feel better now!”</p><p>“The antidepressants have blocked the Hanahaki flower for now, but given your distressed state they must be wearing down.”</p><p>Peter opened his mouth to argue once more, but in the face of implacable will, he stopped. He had lost. Those precious few weeks were just a fleeting dream and now, not only was he going to lose these memories forever, he was also going to lose Tony himself. He wasn’t ready.</p><p>“Can I- Can you give me a moment?” He implored “It’s just, if I could just shower off the mess and blood, dress in something other than a hospital gown you know...”</p><p>“Your clothes are ruined I’m afraid, I’ll try to find something else for you to wear. You have fifteen minutes and then I’m coming back with Stark for the Official Confrontation.”</p><p>Dr. Cho turned on the spot and left Peter alone with his racing heart and growing panic. He pushed the white sheet covering him away and got out of bed on shaking legs. There was a small bathroom connected to his room and he wasted no time shedding the flimsy garment and climbing into the tiny shower stall. The hot water was solace to his wrecked nerves and Peter spent several precious minutes simply standing under the showerhead trying to relax his trembling limbs.</p><p><em>I need to do this right, I’ve only got one chance, </em>he thought resolutely.</p><p>He grabbed the neutral soap and began to wash himself thoroughly, mind racing with multiple scenarios. Half-way through he heard someone entering the main room swiftly and closing the door again. In lack of proper toothpaste, Peter resolved to use the soap and his finger to wash his teeth as best as he could and grimaced at the taste. </p><p>Finally, when he couldn’t postpone any longer, he wrapped himself in a towel and poked his head out of the bathroom. He found jogging pants and a sweatshirt adorned with the SHIELD logo folded neatly on his bed and lost no time putting them on, squashing his own embarrassment at going commando for such a crucial talk. He returned to the bathroom and made a notable attempt to tame his hair before rapidly giving up and devoting the next thirty seconds making his bed immaculately with the sheet perfectly tucked and pulled, which he ruined a second later when he perched himself on it. Hands on his folded knees, Peter took a slow, deep breath, still wet hair tickling his temples.</p><p><em>Calm down, </em>he urged himself. <em>Breathe.</em></p><p>He was so focused on his respiration that the sudden knock on his door came as a total surprise.</p><p>“Come in,” Peter called, and he was proud to find that his voice hardly wavered.</p><p>Dr. Cho entered first, calm as ever, which made Tony’s nervous energy behind her even more evident, he barely waited for her to pass the threshold before he stormed in himself, reaching Peter’s bed in two big strides.</p><p>“Pete, hey,” Tony was hovering very close and his hands grabbed the sheets tightly “Are you alright, kid? They wouldn’t tell me anything, Happy came to me covered in blood and completely panicked, he said you choked on a pizza? What the hell have you guys been feeding each other lately? Without me, I might add.”</p><p>Peter’s hand was on Mr. Stark’s wrist before he could register the movement.</p><p>“It’s not the pizza, Tony. Tell Happy it’s not his fault okay?” He waited until he could see his words being digested and continued. “I’ve been sick lately.” He had to talk louder to cut through Tony’s attempt to interrupt him “-and I haven’t told you, mostly because I’ve been <em>told</em> not to but also because I’m selfish and I wanted to enjoy our lab sessions without having to think about...everything else.”</p><p>“You- sick? Pete, you’re not sick, I would’ve known, I would’ve <em>seen</em>-” Tony said with growing denial.</p><p>“You’re not the only one who can hide a fatal condition you know,” Peter cut him off gently with a small smile. He felt remorseful when he saw Tony’s face turning white as a sheet, and he cupped both of Tony’s shoulders in his hands, not quite a hug, but close. “Sorry, that was uncalled for, and a joke really, I’m not dying, Tony,” Peter assured him as best as he could.</p><p>It was somewhat ruined by Dr. Cho’s pointed cough. He and Tony both turned in her direction to see her raise her eyebrow at Peter. Somehow, he had completely forgotten her presence here and he would feel immensely grateful for her discretion if she hadn’t just ruined his little speech.</p><p>“What? What’s going on? Is he lying? <em>Is</em> he dying?” Tony asked loudly, panic pitching his voice uncommonly high.</p><p>“I’m not dying!” Peter protested. He forced the man to look away from Dr. Cho and to meet his eyes, “I won’t die, Tony, I promise!”</p><p>Tony stared at him for a while, looking for bullshit, and took several deep shaking breaths before he collected himself. His voice when he spoke to Peter was low and composed again.</p><p>“Tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>Peter allowed himself a few seconds to memorize Tony’s expression, his extreme focus that almost hid his frantic concern, the way his eyes never left Peter’s, and the feeling of his warm, solid shoulders under the shirt beneath his palms. He slowly moved his hands down the man’s arms, until he reached Tony’s hands and held them delicately in his own. Peter felt him stiffen, whether in fear or because Tony was gearing up to reject the touch and everything it meant, Peter didn’t know, but he would soon. </p><p>Soon, everything was going to change.</p><p>“I’m in love with you, Tony. I’ve loved you for years and if I had any say in this I would’ve loved you for the rest of my life.” He started determinedly “I was okay with you never knowing, with you never returning my feelings. You gave me so much already, I felt spoiled by how much time and attention you devoted to me for years. I would never have asked for more.” Peter inhaled. “But my body got sick. I- I have Hanahaki disease, Tony. So I have to get it removed, and- and then we won’t be able to see each other again.”</p><p>The silence that followed his confession seemed to go on forever. They were still holding hands, though Peter’s were now so sweaty that his grasp had turned precarious. He tried to read Tony’s expression but his face was frozen in shock and Peter had no idea what went on in the other man’s head. </p><p>Tony started to open his mouth but no sound came out of it; he frowned and tried again before closing it once more. He looked down at their joined hands and removed his from Peter’s with a small laugh that didn’t seem to hold any humor.</p><p>“This is a joke right?” Tony turned to Dr. Cho. “Is this revenge for when I stole Brucie for forty-eight hours straight the other week? You know science can’t wait! And I told you I was sorry!”</p><p>“This isn’t a joke, Stark,” She stated sternly. “He has Hanahaki disease… has for months, maybe years.”</p><p>“But it’s- it has to be some kind of mistake! His body mistook a crush for something else and-”</p><p>“It’s not a crush,” Peter interrupted. “It hasn’t been for years.” Tony looked back at him and Peter wouldn’t let him avert his eyes again. “Hanahaki flowers won’t bloom for anything else than honest, devoted, ardent, <em>genuine </em>love, hopeless as it may be. You know that.” His chest was getting tighter by the minute, his hammering heart pulsing against thicker and thicker ropes.</p><p>Tony looked as wretched as Peter felt.</p><p>“But you <em>can’t</em>,” he pleaded. “Peter, kid, you can’t love me! That’s the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, c’mon you’re smarter than that.” </p><p>It was getting harder to think around the growing agony in his chest but Peter was determined to see this conversation through, to make sure Tony understood, so that one of them retained the knowledge of Peter’s feelings after his memory got wiped.</p><p>“It wasn’t a choice, it doesn’t work like that. But if I had a say, I would’ve still chosen you, sir.” </p><p>Peter watched the effect of the word as it hit Tony, they had moved past such formalities long ago and the way he used it now served more as a mark of adoration than politeness. He took advantage of Mr. Stark’s shock to continue.</p><p>“I’m not saying you’re perfect; I know you have issues. I’m saying I don’t <em>want</em> perfect. I want someone who can relate to the crazy mess that is a superhero’s life, someone who won’t ask me to look the other way and stay safe, someone who trusts me, someone with whom I can do <em>science</em>, build insane things, and miss dinner. Someone who has been hurt as much as I have and who got stronger for it. Someone like you.” He finished, looking right at him, fighting increasing dizziness.</p><p>Tony, standing still in front of him, had an agonized expression that reflected perfectly Peter’s state. His mentor watched him for several tense seconds, brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and then running through his hair none too gently. He met Peter’s stare again, his frame trembling, he looked terribly affected.</p><p>“Goddamnit, kid.”</p><p>And then he kissed him.</p><p>The buzz in Peter’s head increased tenfold, a loud and overwhelming thing that smothered everything else. He had no idea how long he stayed frozen and unresponsive, but as the noise faded he began to register other things. The warm, persistent press of Tony’s lips against his, the man’s right hand clutching at the back of his hair, the intoxicating smell of his skin and cologne and the rough rub of his beard against his smooth chin.</p><p>A low moan escaped him and he took a gulping breath, filling his lungs with more air than he had managed to draw in <em>weeks </em>and brought his own hands to Tony’s face before kissing him with a vengeance. He rose to his knees and tugged the man closer still and the feeling of their bodies crashing together was exhilarating, it was better than swinging around New York, it was-</p><p>They were interrupted by a pointed cough once again, though it took two more, getting louder each time, before they stopped their frenzied kissing. They stayed entwined in each other, twin sets of incredulous eyes gazing at each other before Dr. Cho swiftly broke their bubble.</p><p>“Gentlemen,” she said with the tone of someone who might’ve wanted to use another word. “If you can detach yourself from the other for a few minutes I need to run some tests on my patient here.”</p><p>They turned back to each other at the same time, Tony’s face alight with playfulness and Peter’s grin not far behind, if held back by a flicker of doubt. He had a hard time catching on to things, finding out that he apparently lived in a reality where Tony Stark could kiss him <em>like that</em>, not to mention <em>at all.</em>.. well, it was a tiny bit disorienting. In the best way.</p><p>He must have lost a few seconds because he was suddenly faced with Dr. Cho’s extended hand, upon which laid two familiar round patches. He picked them up and mechanically started to lift his SHIELD sweater to stick the first one at the center of his chest. He looked up to catch Tony’s wandering eyes on his exposed skin and Peter stopped moving, almost afraid to cause something that would disrupt the man. </p><p>Tony found his way back to his face eventually, with a mischievous grin at the corner of his lips that made Peter’s senses tingle wildly in a definitely not ominous way. He blamed his sickness and overall very eventful day for his complete lack of reflex when Tony swiftly stole the second patch.</p><p>“On his back, right?” He aimed his off-handed question to Dr. Cho, though he was obviously familiar with the device because he didn’t wait for her answer before slipping his hand under Peter’s sweater.</p><p>The shock of his warm, calloused hand on his bare skin made the younger man start, he barely had time to appreciate the comforting rub of Tony’s thumb on his spine before he attached the patch and withdrew his hand.</p><p>In a clear attempt to ignore their improper behavior, Dr. Cho had already taken her phone out and with a few taps and slides at her screen, she brought up a hologram of Peter’s chest between them.</p><p>The sight was chilling and disconcerting.</p><p>“It’s… not gone?” Peter asked, dismayed.</p><p>“Not entirely.” Dr. Cho’s voice was as level as ever. “You can see that all ten flower heads and buds are withered and that the roots have retracted quite substantially to their source.” She pointed at the different areas. “A complete recovery will require a stronger momentum,” she finished, looking directly at Tony.</p><p>“Yeah?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re gonna have to leave the room, Doc. I won’t sanction your very unprofessional way of getting a free eyeful.”</p><p>Dr. Cho rolled her eyes in an extremely uncharacteristic manner, but then Tony often had that effect on people. She gave it a beat and then explained in a slightly less-patient voice. “I’m not talking about sex Stark, though I shouldn’t be surprised that your lecherous brain would make this assumption. No, the answer is something you are both great and terrible at, <em>talking</em>.”</p><p>Tony blurted a small “What?” at the same time as Peter let a snort out.</p><p>“Do you,” she asked flatly, “accept and return Peter’s feelings?”</p><p>There was a long pause, a silence that seemed devoid of breathing and where the only movement came from Tony’s nervous fidgeting. When Peter finally caught his eye, he could see panic warring with something else, a struggle that found an echo in the younger man, who felt like he was balancing on the edge of something crucial and hazardous.</p><p>Tony swallowed and lifted one hand to Peter’s face, brushing a stray wave away from his brow. His eyes gentled and a small, serene smile grew at the corner of his lips.</p><p>“I do. Of course I do. Have for… a while.”</p><p>They would’ve stayed lost in each other if not for Dr. Cho’s small exclamation. As it was, they turned and watched the hologram in tandem, as the Hanahaki flower withered further and died, dissolving into nothing.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
  </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Epilogue </em>
</p><p>After staying one night in observation to make sure the flower didn’t grow back in Tony’s absence (and with the promise of doing regular check-ups for a year), Peter was finally discharged on Sunday morning and went home to relieve the fears of May and his friends, who were anxiously waiting for news about his condition.</p><p>Overall and without selling short the really good parts, it was still a truly exhausting weekend.</p><p>Sadly, the following week wasn’t much better. Peter was caught in an avalanche of schoolwork due to the upcoming finals and his less-than-stellar application of himself to his schoolwork during the last month. Without the texts he and Tony exchanged daily and the utter lack of coughing fits, Peter might’ve started to wonder if he had hallucinated that life-changing moment in the infirmary.</p><p>As it was, he had the perfect incentive to power through his week of cramming, owing to the fact that Tony had invited him to his ‘Manhattan pied-à-terre’ for the weekend.</p><p>Thus, Peter found himself in the elevator leading to Tony’s latest penthouse on Saturday in the late morning, eyes still blurry after the ten hours of sleep he had gotten last night. He had taken a change of clothes and a few things that made his backpack significantly bulkier, and for <em>reasons</em> its unusual weight on his shoulder kept bringing a blush to his cheeks. It was a constant reminder that he was going to <em>spend the weekend with Tony.</em></p><p>With a low chime, the doors opened to a huge open space that Peter barely registered given that Tony was standing, <em>waiting</em>, right in front of him.</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>The awkwardness lasted for five long seconds, and uncertainty made him hesitate. Peter started to raise a hand (to touch? to offer a handshake?! Jesus.) only to lower it again.</p><p>In the end, Peter put his backpack down slowly, took a few steps forward with his eyes on Tony like the man was likely to flee, and leaned up against Tony to brush their lips together in a kiss as tentative as it was heartfelt.</p><p>He felt Tony inhale shallowly and then suddenly they were pressed in a tight embrace, with Tony’s arms firmly gripping Peter’s hips and his mouth devouring Peter’s in an assault of slick tongue, insistent heat and pressure, and even a tiny bit of teeth that turned Peter’s knees to jelly and made his veins pump liquid fire throughout his body. </p><p>“I missed you,” Peter panted and before he knew it, his hands were grabbing, caressing and rubbing everywhere he could reach at once. He even stood on tiptoes to reach <em>more</em>, unable to control the arching of his back.</p><p>Tony responded by tightening his arms around him and kissing him deeper.</p><p>Peter made a small sound and brought them closer still, his frantic writhing aligning their hips in a way that made them both groan. Tony’s hands lowered deliberately, pressing in the dip of Peter’s lower back before they ended their course on his rear, cupping his ass with tight fingers. He started an insistent, squeezing rhythm, bringing Peter up and down by the strength of his hands. </p><p>The feeling of Tony’s flexing arms and the delicious friction were so overwhelming that Peter had to break off their kiss to muffle a long string of whimpers on Tony’s shoulder.</p><p>He turned his head and began to lick and suck the man’s neck, the flood of flavor input lighting his brain up with fireworks while a lucid part of him rejoiced at the very real fulfillment of this long-held fantasy of his. </p><p>One of Tony’s hands briefly left his bottom to grip Peter’s nape in an encouraging, desperately desiring move before he picked him up in a display of strength that made Peter’s circling his waist with his legs less practical and more of a knee-jerk reaction to a sudden wave of lust.</p><p>They stumbled to the nearest sofa, a monstrosity that could seat eight people easily, and fell down in a mess of reaching limbs. With a deft hip swing, Peter ended up on top and wasted no time resuming their kiss and reaching toward Tony’s fly. He had to stop there when he felt the press of the man’s covered erection on his hand for the first time, his incredulous thrill making his fingers tighten, which in turn brought the loveliest moan from Tony.</p><p>“Pete, Peter, what are you doing?” The man asked, breathless and panting. “Slow down a bit, would you-” he hissed when Peter pressed his hand harder and his voice turned almost high, “I had <em>plans</em> for the weekend, Pete, romantic plans! I was going to woo you and-”</p><p>“You can woo me later.”</p><p>Peter accorded himself a few teasing seconds of light brushes against the man’s groin before his own patience ran out and he expedited the work of unzipping the other man’s jeans and finding his way through the briefs to Tony’s already-pulsing cock.</p><p>They both let out a similar sound of relief and pleasure, and caught each other’s eye in a moment of shared mirth. Peter placed a small peck on Tony’s lips and moved back on his knees and elbows until he was faced directly with the man’s erection. He winked playfully to his mentor, his racing heart a secret contradiction to the easy flirtation that he played at, and then Peter bent down to take his first taste of this long-awaited treat.</p><p>He licked a teasing stripe under the head and then took it in his mouth, groaning at the dizzying sensation of a throbbing pulse and silky soft skin on his tongue. Suddenly there was a hand brushing through his hair and taking hold of it, gentle but definitely signing off on everything Peter was doing. Peter felt Tony’s eyes on him like a burning touch, all this laser focus on <em>him</em> and he shook and moaned and sucked harder.</p><p>“You’re so good. So good for me, Peter,” Tony whispered to him, his voice close to a purr.</p><p>Peter lost himself in the act, worship in every press of his tongue, in the tightening of his lips, in his wandering hands. He was getting steadily drunk on Tony’s sighs and his broken words of praise, feverish from the fingers petting his hair and even the ones brushing down his face, over his stretched lips.</p><p>“Come here.”</p><p>Peter made a discontented noise when he was pulled from his altar before Tony’s soothing hands on his cheeks guided him to a mind-blowing kiss. Peter pressed his still covered crotch against Tony’s, his arousal bordering on painful now, and sought a release that felt tantalizingly close.</p><p>“Wait, wait. Like this, Pete, like this.”</p><p>Tony pushed Peter gently on his back, opening and lowering his pants in a few quick gestures, urgency making his voice rough when he praised him.</p><p>“So beautiful, so fucking perfect.”</p><p>The words made Peter arch against him, precome dribbling freely from his cock and he buried his nose under Tony’s jaw, overwhelmed and ready to explode.</p><p>“I’m so close, please I’m so close,” he admitted. Saying it only made it more true.</p><p>Tony pressed a kiss to his brow and slipped his right hand between their nearly entwined bodies to grab both their erections in a hot, enclosing grasp. He started up a hard, punishing cadence, both of them far too gone to drag things out, Peter’s leaking head making everything wet and slippery and <em>amazing</em>.</p><p>“You’re so good, I’ve wanted for so long… Pete, sweetheart, please come for me...”</p><p>“Tony, <em>Tony</em>-”</p><p>Fire was coursing through his veins yet again, and Peter closed his eyes and let out an inarticulate cry, as blinding pleasure crashed through him like a hurricane, storm after fiery storm wrecking his body, stealing his breath and obliterating any lingering thought in his brain. He barely registered Tony’s high groan and the wet mess on their shirts, lost and trembling in aftershocks as he was.</p><p>Peter nosed Tony’s collarbone and panted heavily; he had tingling in his fingers and a weird windy noise in his ears that must have been his blood rushing. He felt his hair move with his mentor’s breaths and he moaned quietly as he shifted and found a comfier spot, half-spread on the man’s chest.</p><p>Tony wiped his hand on his own jeans and put it back in Peter’s hair, the bliss of his tender touch bringing a small sigh out of him.</p><p>They stayed that way for a long while, comfortable in the peaceful silence, heartbeats slowly going back to normal.</p><p>“So, Christmas is coming up,” Tony said abruptly. “You mind telling me what would please you the most?”</p><p>Peter lifted his head and looked at him with a small grin.</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know how you could possibly top saving my life, or, you know, <em>this</em>, but you’re welcome to try!” He returned to his previous spot with a pleased hum. “Just, whatever you do, don’t buy me flowers.”</p>
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